Hold you to the hounds of hell
by lonerism
Summary: The first time Stefan told her to feed on a rabbit, she cried and ran back home.


**A/N: Yes, another oneshot from me. And yes, I apparently am still shit at coming up with titles for my stories. Sigh. Anyways, I hope y'all will enjoy this!**

**Disclaimer: No, sadly I don't own anything from The Vampire Diaries.**

* * *

.

_**Hold You to the Hounds of Hell**_

.

* * *

The first time Stefan told her to feed on a rabbit (_small, furry, cute, adorable rabbit_), she cried and ran back home.

It was eighteen hours after she woke up in the hospital and took a bite on the first human she laid eyes on; eighteen hours since died and then was awaken again, as something entirely different from what she used to be. Only yesterday she was a prey; now she was the predator.

She spent the previous night curling up in her room, clamping her ears with her hands and marveled at the fact that she didn't have to breathe. Nothing missed her senses now, and being able to know everything her neighbors were up to had become too much. It took every ounce of her not to run into their homes and pounce into them to sink her teeth deep into their skin, and taste the savory red liquid she had recently grown so fond of again. She must have grinded her teeth so hard that it sounded more like a bone breaking, and it worried Stefan—who decided to stay the night with her (just in case) and was currently sitting on the couch by her window—that he climbed up to her bed and took her in his arms.

"Just close your eyes and let the sleep take you in," he softly said.

Yeah, like it was _that_ easy.

She only slept for two hours that night.

.

* * *

.

The next morning, Stefan was still 'guarding' her. Though, when she woke up, she was alone in the bed and he was back in his seat.

She then took almost two hours in the shower; scrubbing, washing, scratching every part of her body until she was one hundred and ten percent sure the blood or even the scent of the people she had killed the night before didn't linger in her body anymore. When she finally got out of the shower, she found Stefan in her kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and another one sat on the table. It was her favorite mug, one she made back in a children art workshop years ago. It had 'Caroline' written in a sloppy handwriting on it.

She grabbed her mug, bringing it to her lips. As she took a sip of her coffee, she stole a glance at Stefan.

"We need to teach you how to feed. Properly."

.

* * *

.

Caroline quickly concluded that Stefan was the real life, and more realistic version of Edward Cullen. How could he not be? He's in love with a human, and he feeds on poor, unsuspecting animals.

When he said he only drinks animal blood, she obviously didn't think as further as that means he would have to hunt down cute little bunnies and then suck the life out of the fluffy little creatures. The thought of _her _having to do the same never crossed her mind too. Then when Stefan told her to focus her hearing on heartbeats that pace so fast like a bullet train, she didn't know that the creature she would stumble onto would be a small, adorable bunny.

So when Stefan shoved the furry little thing to her, and told her to bite it, her eyes widened in horror and her lips trembled as both her eyes started to get watery.

She put the rabbit down and raced back home, slamming her bedroom door shut.

.

* * *

.

In her room, she hugged her knees and cried until she fell asleep. A million thoughts were running through her mind. Had she turned to such a monster, that she would even have to kill a sweet little furry thing to satisfy her hunger? Oh God, what was she thinking? She had killed two _humans_! She had taken two lives and she was probably going to have to take even more. Caroline suddenly felt scared of herself, of what she'd become.

She was awaken from her (thank _God_) dreamless sleep a few hours later. A new presence in the room jolted her awake. She instantly got into a defensive mode; she had become so paranoid since she turned. It didn't help too that when she could finally make out the figure standing by her bed, it was the very person who had tried to kill her just the day before.

"Oh, relax," he said in a bored tone, rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you. I'd rather not have Stefan coming down for my ass," he added. "Well, not now, at least."

This still couldn't convince her, since her back was still stiffened and she was still looking at him with a look that was a mix of fear and hatred; though she tried so hard to conceal the fear because that was the last thing she wanted him to see in her.

He seemed to pick up on this, so he simply sighed and drop something on her bed. It landed right next to her. She leaned over to take a look at it, frowning when she realized what it was. An unlabeled blood bag, plump and full with red liquid. She looked up to him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"You're giving me blood?"

"Not human, don't worry. I know Stefan's trying to turn you into a bunny killer," he replied. The last part of his sentence made her flinch.

"Right," he cringed at the slip of his tongue. "Stefan told me about what happened today. Well, he was talking while I was in the room and I heard him, not that I ever asked him to give me any updates on you."

"Stefan bags animals' blood sometimes. Keeps them in the fridge. He would've loved to share his stocks with you but he probably wanted to teach you how to survive on your own first," he shrugged. "It should keep you full for the day."

She reluctantly took the bag, staring at it. What kind of blood was it? Was it from a rabbit? She shuddered at the thought. She really was still not comfortable with feeding on an adorable animal like that. Rabbit was supposed to be a pet you cuddle to.

"Drink. You have to feed or you'll be killing yourself, slowly," he told her firmly, his icy blue eyes locking on her own, which were only a few shades darker. "If you feel so bad about killing bunnies, that one is probably the blood of a deer. Stefan doesn't really have preferences, you know. He takes anything he finds in the woods. Or, if it does turn out to be bunny blood, just…don't think about it."

It was only when he was about to turn on his heels and flee her house, did she call his name for the first time in the day.

"Damon?"

He stopped briefly, glancing over his shoulder to look at her. She shifted in her bed, finally letting her shoulder slump and her guards down. She pursed her lips, gulping before she spoke.

"Thank you."

It was quite difficult to say the words, as it almost felt like swallowing her own ego. She had spent months hating the man because all she knew was that he had hurt her. And when she regained the memories of the things he had done to her all those months ago, all she could feel towards him was hatred. But here he was, doing something that could be considered as nice, to her.

He curtly nodded. "Don't get used to it, though. I'm obviously not going to come and bring you bags of animal blood everyday. Grow some spine and stop being so attached to bunnies."

Oh, there it is—the Damon Salvatore that always gets on her nerves. She scowled at him, but before she even got the chance to throw back some insult at him, he was already gone. The spot where he stood only a second ago was empty. And although she could hear Mr. Graham from across the street snoring, her ears couldn't pick up any sign of him. She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't the first time he came to her and then gone in a flash.

Her eyes fell to the blood back in her hand. Drawing in a breath, she pulled on the lid, and took a sip of the blood. She could feel her face changing as she gulped down the whole content of the bag. For the first time in months, she felt something other than burning hatred towards Damon Salvatore.

.


End file.
